“Will you turn out the light?” he asked. “Or shall I smash it?”
“Turn it out yourself!” ordered Gid, “if you know where the switch is.”
“I don’t know where the switch is,” Mike replied.
“Then coax the boy to turn it out,” sneered Gid. “He seems to be a special friend of yours.”
“Turn it out kid,” advised Mike.
Jule, realizing that the light must already have accomplished the purpose intended, turned the switch and the Rambler was again in darkness. He realized that the light would be extinguished whether he turned the switch or not, for the lamp could be easily broken.
“Now, boy,” Gid thundered in Jule’s ear, “you get into that cabin and stay there. If any of these sneaking Government officials come on board, you’re sick! Do you understand that? You’re sick abed! And we’re your good, kind protectors! Understand that? If you ain’t good and sick while they’re here, you’ll be ailing in earnest as soon as they go away.”
“All right,” Jule answered, “I’ll go into the cabin now and lie down. But, look here,” he continued, “I’d like to have you gentlemen make me a promise. Will you?”
“What is it?” asked Mike, not unkindly.
It was very dark now, and they could not see each other’s faces, especially as the glare of the light during its brief presence had in a manner dazzled their eyes. Perhaps this was just as well, for Gid would not have liked the look on Mike’s face as he spoke to the boy. It was all sympathy and feeling.